


comet songs

by hurryup



Series: divine but not devout [4]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Birthdays, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurryup/pseuds/hurryup
Summary: “You’re a pair of children,” Allen sighed. “Immortal, all-powerful children.”“We are not children,” Kanda groused, coming round the sofa to plop down next to Allen, his arms folded tight.“Or all-powerful, for that matter,” Link added daintily.“But you are undeniably immortal,” Allen said. He reached back across the table to steal a quick sip of his coffee, gathering his thoughts as his lips met the brim. Pulling it down from his mouth, he mused, “A pair of immortals who celebrate birthdays. Who knew.”A cup of coffee, a spot of immortality, and a headfirst tumble into love.





	comet songs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nea_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nea_writes/gifts).



> fuckhowardlink @ tumblr
> 
> nich i love u happy birthday!!!!

 

“You’re birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?”

“What?” Allen’s smile faltered.

They were sitting in the living room, Allen’s knees tucked beneath him on the couch as he nursed a hot cup of coffee between both hands. Kanda’s coffee, more specifically. A little too bitter, maybe a touch too watery, but still good. Honestly, Allen was of the general opinion that Link made better coffee — always rich, creamy and smooth over his tongue — but then again, Kanda’s coffee never came with the lingering risk of arsenic poisoning.

“December 25th,” Link elaborated smoothly. He lowered himself down into the seat adjacent to Allen, moving with a prim elasticity that managed to be somewhat birdlike. Like he was folding himself up. He lifted his chin in Allen’s direction. He had his own cup of coffee laced between both hands, likely drawn from the same pot Kanda had brewed. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” Allen demurred. Belatedly, he hiked the smile back up on his face. “No, not wrong. I’m… just surprised you’d remember.”

“I have a good memory,” Link returned, a little wry. 

“I supposed you’d have to, huh,” Allen said. He shifted restlessly in his seat, crossing his ankles over one another as he fought to rise to his knees. “How about this? Do you know how old I’ll be turning?”

But before Link could even answer, Kanda beat him to it.

“You’ll be 21,” he called out from somewhere across the apartment. Allen followed the sound of his voice — Kanda was wandering over the sofa, his dark hair pulled over his shoulder in a low ponytail. The effect was refreshingly subdued, even gentle. 

Kanda really did have beautiful hair. Long, nightmare-dark, as sleek and fine as ribbon. As silk. Allen would’ve liked to touch it; he was fairly certain that’d earn him a smack, though.

Divine retribution, as it were.

“Somehow, this is getting to be a little overwhelming,” Allen laughed nervously. Feeling strangely desperate to deflect their attention, “I’m sure birthdays mean nothing to the both of you at this point.”

“Not true,” Link protested. “Twenty-one is a fine age, worthy of celebration. I believe it’s also the legal drinking age of this nation, yes?”

Allen rolled his eyes.

“What, are you two gonna take me out to a bar?”

The idea was absurd even to his own ears. Link must have agreed, because his lips quirked into a rueful smile.

“I’m afraid we wouldn’t be much fun,” Link said gently.

“Speak for yourself,” Kanda scoffed. Allen’s head lolled back against the sofa to follow his movements — he was rounding the room slowly, lingering near the bookshelf to finger at the black paper crane nestled between Allen’s laptop and a lonely, bookless bookstop.

“Don’t tell me you’re a hard-partier,” Allen commented dryly. Kanda made this little sound, then; it wasn’t quite a laugh, no, but it was close enough, and Allen was one to take his victories where he could.

“I wish,” he groused, his fine, pale fingers splaying over the edge of the shelf to swipe up some of the dust. He pulled his hand back, disgust wrinkling his face as he studied his dry, sooty fingertips. “It takes a hell of lot to get an angel drunk.”

“At least you don’t have to worry about liver failure,” Allen pointed out amicably. Kanda hummed, face lined and sober as he wiped his hand against the leg of his pants. Graceless. “What’s an angel’s beverage of choice?”

“I think I have an idea,” Link said.

There was a pause.

“Tequila,” Kanda said, low and harsh. “It’s tequila.”

Allen could see the menacing threat in Kanda’s eyes, the shutdown, but Link wasn’t frightened by it.

“Is that so?” Link said instead, attention flickering to Kanda in a sharp, unsteady snap. “From what I’ve heard, your kind has a taste for something more exotic.

“Stop,” Kanda hissed. “I’ve told you, I don’t — I wouldn’t fucking do that.”

Allen glanced between the both of them, edging into the conversation with a nervous, “What do you—”

But Link was there to cut him off before he could even finish speaking.

“Demon blood,” Link explained, short.  He shifted, an unimpressed expression flickering over the set of his shoulders. “Quite potent when imbibed, so I hear. It’s considered something of a delicacy among angels. The quickest way to get an angel drunk.” Then, he sighed, the tension easing out of his body. “ This was a poor change of topic. I apologise.”

“You _better_ fucking apologise,” Kanda bit back, words cut like diamonds. Then, with less heat, " _Shit,_ Link."

Another pause, longer now. Heavy and dark like a cloud full of rain.

“So long as we agree that nobody will be drinking Link’s blood,” Allen said lightly, hoping to defuse the situation. Link let out a prissy little huff, pursing his lips together until they were pale and bloodless.

“Well, I’d certainly appreciate that,” he sniffed. Kanda clicked his tongue, dropping his hands to hips lips, his displeasure evident.

“Get real, dipshit. I’m not interested in your... bodily fluids.”

Without any help at all, an encyclopedia tumbled off the shelf and struck Kanda’s foot, hard. Kanda swore loudly. Link sipped at his coffee.

“You’re a pair of children,” Allen sighed. “Immortal, all-powerful children.”

“We are  _ not _ children,” Kanda groused, coming round the sofa to plop down next to Allen, arms folded tight.

“Or all-powerful, for that matter,” Link added daintily.

“But you are undeniably immortal,” Allen said. He reached back across the table to steal a quick sip of his coffee, gathering his thoughts as his lips met the brim. Pulling it down from his mouth, he mused, “A pair of immortals who celebrate birthdays. Who knew.” He set the mug back down and tilted his head to shoot a glance at Kanda, mouth twitching back up into a small smile. “Do you celebrate your own birthdays, then?”

Kanda blinked.

“Ah, well,” Link coughed. “That is…”

“That’s completely different,” Kanda said bluntly.

“Is that so?” Allen hummed, eyes narrowing ever slightly as he studied the two of them anew. “How old are you?”

The line of Link’s shoulders went tense, his expression shifting into a look of deep discomfort. Kanda’s eyes glassed over, as if struggling to remember.

Perhaps this was the wrong question to ask.

Collecting his thoughts, Allen amended himself by saying, “Alright, fine. How old are you, physically?”

“Twenty-four,” Kanda answered immediately. Confidently. He sounded like he’d given this plenty of thought, which was… okay, a little sad when it came down to it.

Link’s discomfort seemed to have eased somewhat, but his brows remained creased into the barest of frowns.

“Back then, Roman Catholics didn’t celebrate birthdays,” he answered slowly. Carefully. He cradled his mug between his hands thoughtfully, his neat, short fingernails rasping quietly against the enamel. “That being said, we  _ did _ keep note of our ages. At that time, it was more or less standard to track one’s age by the number of winters survived. I was 22 winters old.”

“That’s pretty hardcore,” Allen commented. Then, jabbing Kanda in the ribs lightly, “Jeez, Kanda, why didn’t  _ you _ give me an answer with historical depth?”

Kanda rolled his eyes, cheek dimpling ever so slightly as his mouth twisted. Allen couldn’t help but stare. You wouldn’t think it just by looking at him, but Kanda could be so unexpectedly expressive. Especially when it came to scowls — Kanda was in possession of a vast wealth of scowls. A whole spectrum of scoffs and frowns and grit teeth. Allen could practically feel his disdain, the sarcasm in his tone when he said, “I wasn’t a fucking pig farmer in Dark Age Europe. We had fucking  _ calendars _ .” 

Link flushed angrily.

“We weren’t…” Link grasped for words, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. “We didn’t keep pigs.”

Allen had misjudged. Link wasn’t angry at all.

He was  _ embarrassed. _

“You grew up farming?” Allen asked, doing his best to entreat Link without judgement. He set his mug down on the coffee table, leaning forwards to fold his hands over his lap. “That’s… that’s interesting.”

Alright, so maybe  _ interesting _ wasn’t exactly the right word.  _ Informative _ might’ve been a little closer to the mark. 

Honestly, if Allen had stopped to consider the possibilities of Link’s past for even three seconds, he probably could’ve inferred this on his own. Link was European, for sure — and by the look of things, definitely over a century old. At that point, well over 90% of the population was subsistence farming, right?

But then again, well. What percentage of the population ended up selling their soul?

Allen must’ve missed that particular stat in World History.

He tried to imagine it, then. Link, young and human. Scraping through a simple, difficult life, hauling grain out from a wide-open field, throwing feed to a pen of chickens. He could scarcely picture it.

The Link in front of him, after all, was anything but simple. And anything but human, if Allen was being honest with himself. Especially with those eyes. Bloodshot and livid, burning bright as Mars on a clear night. They were the eyes of animal, or perhaps a monster; at once more and less than human — something feral, dangerous, fundamentally  _ altered _ .

Only half-alive.

And Kanda — well.

Kanda was a burning star dressed as a shadow. Justice and fury and blinding white light, buried in blue.

“Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it,” Allen confessed, glancing guiltily between Link and Kanda. Throwing his gaze between heaven and hell. “Who you two were when you were… human, I suppose.”

“It was a long time ago,” Link said. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“I think it matters,” Allen frowned. 

Across from him, Kanda shook his head firmly, the dark fall of his hair following his movements.

“It  _ really _ doesn’t,” he said emphatically.

Allen blinked up at the both of them.

“In agreement for once, I see.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Kanda snorted. Allen chewed the inside of his cheek.

“This isn’t fair, honestly,” he protested weakly. “You two haven’t celebrated a birthday in probably… the past two centuries or whatever, and you’re still making a big deal out of mine?”

Link actually let out an honest-to-god  _ laugh _ at that, warm and wonderful, turning the center of Allen’s chest to mush. Even Kanda wasn’t immune to it; his eyes immediately followed the sound, landing on Link and staying there, watching in mute silence as the laugh shook its way out of Link’s soft, slender body.

“You’re young,” he said. “Young and human. Blind and foolish.”

“Gee, thanks,” Allen quipped.

Kanda didn’t say anything. The corner of his mouth did lift into the barest, most sardonic of smiles, though.

Not so high and mighty, that one.

He was lovely. Allen could hardly stand to admit it, but that was the truth. Honest and unabridged. The both of them were lovely; lovely in their humanity, in their humanity. The loveliest creatures Allen had ever seen, and was ever likely to see, really.

Link tilted his head forwards, chin dropping against his collarbone. Blonde hair tickled against his temples, curling around his cheekbone to frame his face in gold. _ Like a halo,  _ Allen thought, knowing he was wrong and hating it, hating that such a gentle thing could be so far from gone. Excommunicated from his arms.

“You have so much to learn,” Link continued, urgent and earnest, “and so much to experience. A whole life ahead of you. What’s another year to us? Immortality has its downsides — we’re static. Unchanging. But the light that burns half as long burns twice as bright. Twenty-one, Allen — that’s something to celebrate. Something _incredible_.”

Link’s inhuman eyes, like fire beneath his fringe. Kanda eyes, rolling warm from where he sat pressed at Allen’s side.

“Stupid asshole,” Kanda scoffed, but there was a lightness to his words. A fondness. “Long-winded as hell. Fuck, but. You get what he’s trying to say, right?” He licked his lips, warm tongue darting over papery pink. “You’re going to be amazing.”

Allen’s chest deflated in a rush .

There was something wrong with him.

Something wrong with him, to be feeling this way. Like his heart was too big for his body. Like there was a firecracker igniting beneath his skin.

An angel and a demon, huh.

Well. Allen had always had questionable taste in men. Surely, this was just the logical conclusion of his bad habits. The radical extreme.

The light that burns half as long burns twice as bright.

Only Allen wouldn’t even burn half as long as Kanda. He wouldn’t burn a tenth as long. What was to to them but one in a billion? What was his lifetime compared to eternity — compared to all the marvels and all the wonders of the universe? A blink. A flash. Smoke, bang, gone.

_ You’re going to be amazing. _

_ I don’t care about that, _ Allen thought, heart making a steady, dedicated climb up through the desiccated cavern of his ribcage and into his throat.  _ I just want to know you’ll remember me. That’s all. _

“You two are too much, sometimes,” he murmured instead — then, feeling strangely vulnerable, and terrified by his own vulnerability, he forced a laugh. “So dramatic, ugh. Is that… a shared trait among all immortals, or just you two?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Kanda snorted. Link shook his head, smiling that strange, sad smile of his. As faded and pale and enigmatic as the crescent moon.

“Don’t lump me in with his sort. I’ll have you know, I’m considered to be quite sensible for my kind.”

“Yeah, sure, sure,” Allen said, waving a hand as if to bat his words away. “Of course. The peak of responsibility and maturity, right here.”

“More responsible than either of you,” Link deflected, and well, Allen couldn’t really argue with him there.

“To be fair, it is a pretty low bar,” he said, and then, when Kanda reached over to pinch him in the ribs, “Ow, ow — Jesus Christ, way to prove my point, Kanda!’

Kanda just shrugged, flashing him with a stupid, smug-as-hell smirk before leaning in to steal a sip of Allen’s coffee. Absolute unrepentant asshole. A disgrace to heaven, surely.

Alright, so Allen was maybe just a little in love with them.

Just maybe.

  
  



End file.
